


Where the Wild Wolves Roam

by BriEva, Little_Ghost14, ScandalInTheVale



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Books, F/M, M/M, Multi, POV Multiple, show
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-03-21 01:28:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13730220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BriEva/pseuds/BriEva, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Ghost14/pseuds/Little_Ghost14, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScandalInTheVale/pseuds/ScandalInTheVale
Summary: Whilst traveling to discuss peaceful negotiations, King Rhaegar Targaryen, Lord Protector of the Seven Kingdoms learns that a new ruler  Beyond the Wall is on the rise. Someone the wildlings refer to with respect and pride,  not a King Beyond the Wall, no; - a Queen.





	1. The Dragon King (Rhaegar 1)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [forestgreen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/forestgreen/gifts).



 

 

 

Rhaegar of House Targaryen First of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, gazed upon the frozen castle of Winterfell for the first time in what felt like his long life. Pure white snow laid softly spread across the grounds as far as the eye could see, the castle was secured by strong, grey imposing walls. The steam from the hot springs added a slight fog to the air as if it was trying to obscure the castle from outsiders.

 

This was the ancestral home of the Starks.

 

The place his little She-Wolf once called her own.

 

Guilt clawed its fingers around his heart, making him wince, quickly glancing away from the great castle in shame as he thought back to his wild-wolf. _How many years had gone by since Harrenhal? Nearly five and ten now,_ if his memory serves true. _By the Seven has it already been that many years?_

 

_Has it truly been that long, since Lyanna Stark ran away from her home? Only to perish from the jaws of the snarling wolf painted upon the Stark banner._

 

“My King,” his new wife called out from beyond the curtain walls of her the carriage, “are you well?” Her voice, was smooth and sultry, with an added flare of concern. _A bit overly dramatic_ , in Rhaegar’s opinion.

 

Cersei Lannister had always been like that, from the first time he’s laid eyes on her she had always put on an act. For the first couple of moons, after they had been wed, he thought he might learn if there was something more beneath the mummer's farce she always displayed. Much to his chagrin, he couldn’t see anything as beautiful as her face underneath the mask. All he saw was the hunger and pride within her emerald eyes, as she hungered for more than he would be able to give. If he had more options The Dragon King would have had another for his wife, after Elia’s passing from a birthing fever nearly two years past. Alas, his choices were slim, there were maidens of course, though they were younger than his daughter. A thought that Rhaegar was not comfortable with when looking for a new mother to his children. The few widows closer to his age were limited even further as he also required someone with the right amount of political acumen, someone that could add her strength to House Targaryen, especially if his offer to the Starks is met with insult. Only the Lannisters had the wealth and power he desired, and Cersei was capable of having multiple children as she already had three by his late cousin Robert Baratheon, before the hunting accident that claimed his life last year.

 

 _One more,_ he sighed with resignation, _the dragon must have three heads._

 

With a masterful performance, he met his Lioness with a confident smile and wave.“I am well my Queen, I am just admiring the sights within the North. Tis quite the view.” The Dragon King spoke as he surveyed the lands once more. Truly it was a marvelous sight to behold. In the south, the skies are light, airy and cloudless, the sunshine was as constant as the gleam of the moon unless it rained. It was only during the depths of winter when the sun would hide its face, but it never lasted for too long. However, the beauty of the environment was lost once it’s smell struck. The air within Kings Landing is always corrupted by the stench of feces, death, loss, and decay. There was never a moment’s peace either. For it was never quiet within Kings Landing, the voices of the small folk echoed through the streets in a constant babble. He could only ever understand the voices of the common people when he was playing his harp right next to them, in the winding streets and alleys.

 

Here though, this far North, the air was so crisp it almost left him breathless. There was no odor of shit, nor the presence of death and decay. The icy weather prevented the dead from rotting too quickly thus freezing the stench before it could spread through the city. He was surrounded by a natural earthy silence, filled only with the sounds of forest life rather than the incoherent voices of the small folk. Though, if he had to be honest with himself, the closer they got to the castle, the more he started to hear the chattering of the townsfolk from Wintertown. But it was the skies that were the most magical to him. It was filled with alluring clouds that seemed to paint images right before his eyes. Mayhaps the Old Gods were in charge of the wind and the skies, their power was still visible here in the North where the people still worshiped them unconditionally.

 

Rhaegar didn’t give Cersei a chance to speak again, he clenched his knees around the horse’s  ribs and steered the animal onwards. Signaling for the rest of the train to march towards their destination in an orderly fashion.

 

Winterfell was at least an hour or two away, with the pace by which the royal procession was traveling, if they could trot instead of graze, Rhaegar was sure that they could have reached the gate within an hours time. However, unlike his fierce She-Wolf from the distant past, Cersei was not half a centaur. She preferred to use the wheelhouse instead, from where she could travel right alongside her youngest children  Myrcella and Tommen Baratheon, even as she watched her firstborn from the window upon his horse near her carriage. Rhaegar had nothing against the contraption other than it’s pace, for he even allowed his eldest daughter, Rhaenys, to travel in her own carriage alongside her cousin Arianne.

 

The snorting from a horse somewhere behind him brought his attention towards his son and heir, Aegon,he still had a few years to go before he would be considered a man. At four and ten he was nearing his father's height but he still lacked the muscle that he would only gain from experience in battle or, preferably, tourneys. Dressed in their families traditional black and red colors, his Targaryen features dominated over his Dornish ones, as he sported the signature Valyrian coloring. Though you could also see the Dornishman in him as he stood next to his sister. Their shared traits mostly restricted to their facial features. Inheriting the shape of their mother’s eyes and angular cheeks, though another common trait they share is their love for Dornish wine and delicacies.

 

“Father,” his son called, riding up next to him. “Are you sure this is the place that my sister should be sent too?” He seemed rather alarmed and cautious for Rhaenys’ sake, as he looked at Rhaegar with trepidation that he was struggling to mask. “Wouldn’t a good southern husband have been a more suitable match?”

 

Rhaegar gave his son a forlorn half-smile, in truth Rhaenys would prefer a friendlier climate. _She is half- Martell, her blood runs hot like a red sun over a desert._ Once they had passed the Neck, Rhaegar couldn’t remember a single day passing them by, where the sun has been completely visible through those distinctive Northern clouds.

 

“As much as it pains me, my son, this is your sister’s duty, our relationship with the North has been strained since I’ve taken the throne - and due to my actions during my youth,” the silver-haired King explained, as his mind immediately went to those stormy grey eyes. With a glare so icy, it nearly froze him on the spot as he carefully removed Lyanna’s helm from her crown. Were he not from a long line of fire-breathing dragons, Rhaegar had no doubt in his mind that he might have been solidified into a frozen statue, for the rest of his days.

 

Sighing resolutely, his son nodded in futile understanding, “are your paramour’s family truly that insulted? Mother wasn’t angry from what I can recall. She told me about the Tourney at Harrenhal. Though, she was somewhat upset about the implication of not receiving the title as your Queen of Love and Beauty on that day.”

 

Rhaegar could understand how his son might be misguided, Lyanna Stark was known throughout the Seven Kingdoms as his paramour, but it was an unofficial title. Though raised in Kings Landing for most of his life Aegon was fostered in Dorne for two years in his youth, and the Dornish culture left its mark upon the Prince. So much so, that his son once asked why Rhaenys couldn’t be Rhaegar's heir instead. Much to the King’s dismay, young Aegon has already been fully exposed to the notions of paramours and bastards being of acceptable social standing, rather than the negative image garnered within the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. Such notions may not serve him just when he ascends the throne. While it did his heart good to see that Aegon didn’t fault him for his youthful indiscretions, he was curious as to what his mother might have said about the tourney.

 

“When did your mother tell you about Harrenhal?”

 

With a grimace, his son corrected himself. “It didn’t actually come from Mother,” Aegon begrudgingly admits, “but Uncle Oberyn. He told me about the scandalous events of that day, and according to him, it was an insult to both my mother and the Stark girl. When I asked Mother about the incident she admitted that while it was upsetting for her, she did understand your reasonings.” The young dragon Prince gave his father a curious look, “though, I have never been able to comprehend your actions or your reasoning. I am almost a man now, perhaps I  should be able to understand it?”

 

His reasons, for laying with the only daughter of Rickard Stark? Dear gods, where would  Rhaegar hope to begin? With the prophecy? His first wife's health? The pressure of taking up the mantle as the King, and knowing that he would need more heirs?

 

_The dragon must have three heads._

 

All true, yet even though the years have passed, Rhaegar still remembered that day as if it was yesterday. In truth none of those woes pushed him into Lyanna’s embrace, his family may believe differently but Rhaegar knew the truth. In an instant all of those memories flashed through his mind, ah yes, he remembered a winter storm that claimed him completely, that one wondrous night.

 

* * *

 

_“Why me!” Lyanna snapped furiously at Rhaegar as she threw a rock she held in her right hand towards him. This was the second time she has attempted to harm a member of the royal family, though at the moment he could see that any logic was lost to her. Her fury was unleashed upon the patient forest of the godswood, underneath the glimmer of the moonlight, she seemed to be more like an ethereal, glowing goddess than an angry girl. She was ready to deliver her darken wrath upon the inconsequentiality of men.  Her worn-out riding leathers shaped itself around her lithe curves in all the right places, leaving little to the imagination, as to how she might appear in her name day suit. Her hair was an array of wild windblown curls with waves of tendrils escaping the confines of an ice-blue ribbon. Her disheveled braid reached the small of her back, embracing her body in the darkness of night. Her eyes glowed and sparkled almost unnaturally as the full moon illuminated her face, like a wolf on the hunt, circling her pray._

 

_She was a sight to behold, wild, obstinate and unforgiving as the winter snows, yet there was something deeper and unfathomable within her eyes. Something that made the ice and wildness in her veins beautiful, rather than terrifying._

 

_Rhaegar took several long strides towards her, and once again the She-Wolf tried to swipe at him with her claws. This time, however, Rhaegar caught her dainty wrists in his hands, holding onto her firmly as his own anger coiled and seethed within his burning veins. Unlike his father, Rhaegar's anger wasn’t a quick match to a jar of wildfire, no; instead, his was more like the snarling and snapping of an enraged dragon before his flames would crisp an unsuspecting victim. Slow to build, but eventually, the flames would be engulfing all the same._

 

_“Because of the loyalty you showed towards your bannermen, by jousting against those knights,” he hissed, through forced, controlled breaths. He was trying to calm himself but those eyes, those belligerent, glowing eyes lit something inside of him, and he could barely contain the fire rushing in his blood. Since he crowned her as his Queen of Love and Beauty he has heard nothing but consternation and disapproval from others. His wife, his friends, even his insane, mad, bloody incoherent father! All he wanted was to give Lyanna something she deserved! He could not simply stand by and watch as this strong, beautiful woman was forced into the cage society built._

 

_“You fought them bravely, without any promises or rewards. Though you can never claim your winnings with the pride of a champion, you still strut around here with your head held high, as if daring anyone to try and steal your undefeated title.”_

 

_The She-wolf daringly pointed her chin at him. A silent challenge Rhaegar was compelled to meet, he took another step closer, his body against hers as she stood her ground. He was standing so close to her, that he could feel her uneven breaths upon the sensitive skin of his neck. Her cheeks were rosy and flushed, Rhaegar even felt her breasts brush lightly against his tunic, as her breathing became more erratic._

 

_“Even though you are wounded,” he whispered intensely, as he absentmindedly gestured to her bruised ribs from a knight's glancing blow, “yet, you still move with a grace that speaks of a dancer. That strength, along with your beauty and accomplishments outshines every maiden at this tourney.” Her rosy lips pressed together firmly, her glowing eyes seemed to nearly leak with tears- though none fell. There was something heartbreaking about the expression she wore; something that made his voice soft with kindness instead of firm with anger._

 

_“The Seven Kingdoms would indeed be safer with you protecting it.” The silver Prince slowly reaches up to her face, carefully brushing the loose strands behind her ears._

 

_“I made a promise to you, Lyanna Stark, that I would never tell a living soul about your escapades as the Knight of the Laughing Tree. But I wanted everyone to see you, as I do.”_

 

 _Her breathing had become less erratic, instead, her breath tasted urgent yet steady upon his lips, and Rhaegar suddenly wondered how he was standing so close to feel her breath against his mouth._ I should back away now, _\- he tried to convince himself unsuccessfully. He said his piece, she understood why he crowned her._

 

_The air was deadly quiet, everything was frozen for a moment in time, he wasn’t sure who moved first, even to this day he is unable to say. Their lips found each other, it didn’t take much for him to devour and taste her mouth, she attacked him with a fierce devotion of her own, before the bleeding eyes of the Old Gods. Then slowly, the she-wolf and the dragon sank to the ground..._

 

* * *

 

 

“Father?” Aegon spoke questioningly.

 

The voice of Aegon jilted Rhaegar out of his memories and heavenly respite, causing him to shift uncomfortably on his steed, then clear his throat with a single cough.

 

“Excuse me, my son, I cannot tell you why I crowned Lyanna Stark as the Queen of Love and Beauty that day. I made a promise back then you see,” he shrugged apologetically, “and a King most of all, must always keep his promises.” A hypocritical statement, as he had broken his promise to his wife that night so long ago. Escaping the guilt once more, Rhaegar again focused his sights on the impending castle and fortifications where his ferocious she-wolf hailed from.

 

The North was a harsh land that bred hardy men and women alike.

 

* * *

 

Rhaegar didn’t expect any grand welcoming party or honor guards at Winterfell, given his history with the Starks. Yet, the King could see that they made an effort to prepare the foreboding castle; all of their banners must have been washed and scrubbed, as the white of the snowy field upon their sigil was crisp and stark against the grey walls of the castle. As well kept as the castle appeared, however, what surprised him the most was the fasade the Northerners presented. All of the servants along with the whole Stark family were lined up accordingly. It was a rather impressive sight to behold, as next to each of Lord Eddard’s children a young wolf stood as a guard. The pups had larger heads than any wolf Rhaegar has seen before, their paws were wider, but legs appeared thin... _No, those weren’t any average wolves,_ he thought with amazement. _Those were direwolf pups!_

 

As Rhaegar dismounted from his steed, the residents of Winterfell kneeled nearly as one, with only the wolves still sitting up, _could you ever tame or bend the will of a wolf?_ Rhaegar wondered briefly as the direwolf pups remained unmoved. It is said that _a dragon is not a slave,_ mayhaps the same could be said about wolves, _beasts that should not be caged._

 

Through different shades of yellow and green, their defiant eyes met his gaze with suspicion.  Just like another wolf he once knew, her strong will was mirrored within these creatures of legend, it was no wonder that she was given the title _The She-Wolf of Winterfell._

 

His eyes turned towards the Old Wolf, Rickard Stark, at the head of the Stark line. This was the first time since the Greyjoy Rebellion, nine years ago, that Rhaegar has seen him and already the Dragon King noticed some of the older man’s ailments. His hair, once a dark brown littered with grey, was now completely as white, as his banners. Rickard’s face was lined with age, but unless the man stood Rhaegar would not be able to make any further assessments about the man’s health.

 

“Rise House Stark, my Warden and protectors of the North,” he commanded.  Rhaegar observed as the family slowly rose from their positions. It took Rickard Stark no longer than the rest, but there was some strain showing on the Old Wolf’s face. The man is nearly 60, some aches and pains are expected, but still, Rhaegar took no joy in the man's discomfort. With  a confident step, he strode towards  the Warden of the North greeting him  respectfully, “my Lord.”

 

“Your Grace,” Rickard answered dutifully, though there was a mocking sharpness to his voice.  The Dragon King recognized his tone immediately, but he did his best ignore it. The Old Wolf felt bitter and shameful, to host the man who disgraced his daughter, of that, Rhaegar was sure. Their junctions have always been strained, even more so after Rhaegar had forced Rickard Stark to foster the Greyjoy boy.

 

Of course Brandon Stark was not here. He was always hard to miss among his siblings. That is how Rhaegar remembered them from the Tourney at Harrenhal when they were still a pack.

 

 _The Wild Wolf_ they had called him, a womanizer, a warrior, a man admired by many others. Untamable, even by his own father, and though Brandon was the firstborn of the Starks,  he was the second one from the pack to die. It had been merely a few weeks after Lyanna’s disappearance when Brandon had shown up in King's Landing challenging Rhaegar to fight against him in order to avenge his disgraced sister.

 

But Rhaegar wasn’t there. Only his father was, and no one could have stopped him from doing whatever his demented mind could envision.

 

Brandon demanded to fight against Rhaegar in single combat, but he never got the chance.

 

Instead, he will forever be known to the rest of the realm as the first victim Aerys burnt alive in the throne room.

 

His actions were the spark that ignited Rhaegar's Rebellion, as the historians say. Outraged over the death of a prominent heir, the other lords stood together, for once; but it was Rhaegar who was prepared for the war. He left Ser Arthur, Ser Barristan and Ser Oswell in command of his wife and children, then Rhaegar took control of the Royal Army right from the first. His father had ordered Rhaegar’s more loyal subjects to the field whilst the Starks, Arrys, and Baratheons were barely calling their banners. The best of the Kingsguard were left to protect the Mad King, whilst the rest of the army was separated from King's Landing within the Crownlands; thus it was easy for Rhaegar to secure his position at the head of the army. However, Rhaegar took a  few loyal squadrons to the capital during the hour of the owl he sneaked into the Red Keep like a thief, while his father’s loyal men were preparing for a battle on the open field.  

 

That night, his father's reign finally ended. _The King is dead, gods save the King!_  They had cried out in the morning, the smallfolk, nobles and soldiers alike.

 

And so, Rhaegar became a king in the most gruesome way possible.

 

He killed his own father. _A Kinslayer, that is what I am now._ He dreadfully accepted. _It’s what they whisper about me behind my back._

 

_For no man is more cursed by the gods._

 

It has been fourteen years, yet Rhaegar still recoiled at the memory. The Dragon King took a breath and focused his attention towards the other missing Starks.

 

Benjen Stark was not here.

 

The Young Pup has been stationed at Moat Cailin, with his wife Lady Barbrey. Lady Barbrey Ryswell was just another one of Brandon's conquest, except her father actually had the authority to protest his daughter’s fate unlike the rest of Brandon’s women. It is well known that in order to placate the Northern Bannerman of the Rills for the disgrace, Benjen Stark ended up married to her. If she ended up with child, like Ashara...well...the situation would have been extremely complicated, but the situation is not unheard of either.  Rhaegar hasn’t heard much about Benjen Stark since his wedding, but he knew that Benjen would be arriving shortly. The Silver King and his party had to gain access through the Moat in order to enter the North. Only Aegon and Rhaenys took it upon themselves to sail to White Harbor, rather than facing the uncomfortable journey by land, they united with him just before they passed the Cerwyn Keep. One of Rhaegar’s most important rules for his household was that all members of the royal family could never all travel together at once. His motives were due to a reasonable fear, after the death of Steffon Baratheon and his wife. His youngest son’s, Stannis and Renly, were originally supposed to go with their parents on their trip to Essos. If they had followed their intended plan, everyone would have perished at sea, bar Robert.

 

And...of course... _Lyanna_ was not here anymore.

 

With a longing breath, The Dragon King glanced towards the line Starks, before him. Rhaegar recalled his duty and manners just in time to acknowledge the Warden of the North's son and heir, “Lord Eddard.”

 

“Your Grace,” greeted the Quiet Wolf solemnly. Lord Eddard was the truest definition of a Stark, with his blood full of honor, and long emotionless face with hard grey eyes, like the stones of Winterfell. Next to him his wife, Lady Catelyn was a stunning sight of color, in this gloomy winter kingdom. Her vibrant auburn hair and sapphire blue eyes seemed to have been passed down to most of their brood, save for one. Catelyn and her children were a vibrant contrast, against the sober tones. The only other colors visible within the courtyard was from the King’s own company.

 

“Lady Catelyn,” the Dragon King softly smiled to her as she curtsied, with a young boy in her arms, he was little more than a toddler. The boy had inherited her striking coloring, with a black direwolf pup with haunting green eyes was keeping guard at her feet. “This little one is Young Rickon your Grace,” Lady Catelyn introduced the toddler in her arms. Rhaegar almost smirked at the sight, before moving down the line. Right next to Lady Catelyn stood a handsome young man, Rhaegar judged that he was perhaps a year or so younger than his own son. He sported his mother's curly red locks and fierce blue eyes, the young man had the appearance of a Tully, however, a second, longer glance revealed a longer Stark face and a stocky build.

 

“My son,” Eddard presented proudly with a gesture of his hand, “Robb.”

 

Rhaegar nodded almost absentmindedly, he barely acknowledged the introduction as he was studying the lad. He suspected that Rhaenys could find him appealing, though they should still get to know each other before they wed. With the thought settled within his mind, he moved further down the line. The next child was also a redhead, but this one was a young beauty. She already showed promise of becoming the next Winter Rose of the North.  If Rhaegar had known about her, he might have tried to wed Aegon to the young lady. As it was, Aegon was now betrothed to the Tyrells own Lady Margaery.

 

The young girl curtseyed with fluid grace, “Sansa Stark, your Grace.” As she raised her eyes towards the Dragon King, he was not surprised to notice that her blue eyes matched her mother’s in color, but the shape of her eyes somehow reminded him more of Lyanna’s eyes. She held her wolf next to her with a red leather leash. It was the only wolf that was restrained. _Perhaps it is a bit wilder than the others?_ Her wolf was light colored into two soft shades of grey, with the wolf’s eyes a sunny yellow, the pup was clearly the smallest of the litter. Young Sansa observed his interest in her pet, as she politely introduced her wolf to him. “This is _Lady_ , your Grace,” and as soon as she spoke,  the wolf practically did a little curtsy of its own. Rhaegar, was quite surprised and impressed by the wolf’s training _This wolf isn’t wild, nay, she is the best trained of them all,_  he realized that the leash and collar nothing but an accessory.

 

“When did you train her to do that?” the next young Starkling in-line, enquired inquisitively. This was the only child from the new generation of Starks who truly mirrored the Stark look. She possessed the dark brown hair of her father and the stormy, haunting eyes of her deceased aunt. Though her looks have not had the opportunity to mature yet, she had the look of his She-Wolf.  She was just a child, yet Rhaegar could see the potential in the little Lady. Anyone who had those deviant eyes was bound to one day be as fierce as a direwolf.

 

 _“Arya!”_ Her mother hissed through her teeth, to his amusement. Rhaegar raised his hand in a motion of silence, then the King went down on one knee and kneeled, he looked the defiant child right in the eyes and gave her a sad smile. “And what is your direwolf named?”

 

“ _Nymeria_ ,” she proudly exclaimed. “After the first Dornish Queen,” Arya Stark continued as if clarifying which Dornish woman she could be referring to. Well, he had to admit that Nymeria has become a common name in Dorne, it was a name which spoke of strength, endeavor, and persistence,  many women proudly bore the name, including one of Oberyn’s bastards.

 

“Ah, the warrior Queen herself,” Rhaegar chuckled as he remembered having a similar conversation before. “I suppose,  you wish to become a warrior, just like her?”

 

The tension in the air was swept away by his words, like ice on a frozen lake with the glacial water rushing past, crushing everything within its path. Surely he couldn’t be the only one who saw young Arya’s striking resemblance, both in look and spirit, to his willful She-Wolf?  However, the young girl didn’t notice any meaning or emotions behind his words, she only applied herself to the conversation at hand.  

 

“Aye!” She joyfully exclaimed. “I would like to learn _real_ sword fighting, and perfect my archery!”

 

The Silver King’s expression became lighter for a moment, he couldn’t help but repeat his own words from years ago. “The Seven Kingdoms would indeed be safer with you protecting it.”

 

For a moment, something seemed to break in the young girl’s face, it reminded him of Lyanna on that magical night,  it seems as if his words given young Arya some encouragement.

 

Or perhaps it’s just the small gesture of acceptance, that brightened her disposition.

 

 _This poor little girl, how she must have felt so odd amongst her family. Haunting them as if she were Lyanna reborn, probably shamed for being so wild and daring. Looking nothing like her siblings, and with too much wolf blood to keep her caged…_ He felt a tinge of pity for the little girl, _did she remind Lord Rickard of his own wolf girl or Eddard of his wild sister? Is Arya raised in the shadows of her strong-willed aunt? Does Lyanna haunt them when they see Arya?_ Lady Catelyn and Sansa were proper ladies, he wondered if Lady Catelyn allowed her inquisitive daughter a chance at adventure. Thoughts and visions of Lyanna invaded his mind and conscience without remorse. All the while Arya Stark gave him a joyful smile,  her teeth were a  patchwork of different sizes, some were partially grown, while others were adult teeth, she even had one missing tooth.

 

 _You should have been our Visenya,_ he reflected quietly for himself, _if Lyanna were my wife, you might have been one of ours... The dragon must have three heads,_ Arya could have been the third head of the dragon. Soon, the world will be in dire need. Rhaegar could feel his shoulders slump involuntarily, he felt like he needed to turn away.

 

The King stood, he needed an escape from the path his devious mind was turning, therefore he quickly moved onto the final Stark child. A young boy, with eyes that were filled with wonder and excitement, he introduced himself as Bran Stark, interestingly enough his sand-colored direwolf was the only one without a name.

 

With a nod of approval, the Silver King turned to face the Lord of the North, in order to introduce the royal family. “Lord Rickard thank you for sharing your family with me, now allow me to extend the courtesy. May I present my son and heir, Crown Prince Aegon of House Targaryen,” he merely turned towards his son, indicating for the boy to present himself. Aegon would one day be their savior, then their King. The Prince That Was Promised, conceived beneath a bleeding star. One day Aegon would save the world from the coming darkness, one day he would herald in the dawn.

 

But not until his little sister was born. _The dragon must have three heads,_ Aegon needed his Visenya,  why, Rhaegar could not say. But he knew the prophecy, he _knew_ that Aegon would need his siblings for whatever destiny has planned. Without his Visenya, Rhaegar doubted Aegon would be able to perform his sacred duty and that this coming darkness, would triumph.

 

Of course Lord Stark and most of the other Lords within Westeros was not aware of their potential, imminent doom. Rhaegar could not risk warning every Lord within Westeros, it would just spark another rebellion. Not many people can understand the prophecy, and after his father’s actions, others may call him mad for believing such tales. And so, only those loyal enough know about Aegon’s future. Rhaegar could only impart this wisdom to his closest allies, Aegon was born with the burden of destiny.

 

Rhaegar heard the creaking and moaning of the carriage door as Cersei suddenly swung the door open with a push from inside. Cersei appeared as graceful and elegant as a swan, her children were paraded behind her in a perfect line. “My wife, Queen Cersei of House Lannister, and her three children. Joffrey Baratheon the son of Robert Baratheon, the young Lord of Storm's End, and heir to the Stormlands, her two youngest, Myrcella and Tommen Baratheon.”  All three of the Baratheon children bore the same golden hair and alluring feature of the Lannisters, as with the Stark family the Baratheon children had inherited their appearances from their mother.  Save for young Arya, that is.

 

Cersei and her children executed the proper courtesies and procedures as was expected from them, as they conducted their greetings Rhaenys’ carriage finally arrived. This was an important moment, Rhaegar wanted both the Stark boy and his daughter to have a good first impression on each other. It would just make everything easier for all concerned.

 

“Finally,” Rhaegar began, “allow me to introduce my daughter. Princess Rhaenys of House Targaryen.”

 

As his daughter descended from the carriage, the thick black cloak she wore would give a peek at her blood red gown, it was clinging onto the curves of her body, it was flattering yet the style was also demure and elegant. It was only when she reached the Starks that she removed the hood from her head. Allowing the Northerners to look at her face more clearly. Her features were sharp and almost delicately, proportioned to her heart-shaped face. Her skin was a rich, dark cream as the deserts of Dorne, hair, and eyes, were as black as the wings of a raven. She was a beauty, there was no denying it. Unlike her mother, Rhaenys had a good constitution, her skin carried a healthy, youthful, golden glow while her lean physique was appeared graceful. Rhaegar quickly glanced towards Robb Stark in order to read his reaction, he was pleased to see to that the boy’s eyes were locked onto Rhaenys, he almost seemed to be enthralled. Rhaegar couldn’t help but to smile inwardly towards himself. _Good_. Turning back towards his daughter the silver king had hoped to see a similar expression. Unfortunately, it didn’t appear as if Rhaenys had the same captivation for Robb Stark, her features remained unmoved and emotionless. Robb Stark was a handsome lad, Rhaegar had hoped to see some interest from Rhaenys.  

 

* * *

 

 

“Your Grace,” Lord Rickard Stark announced as he opened the door to his solar, “as you commanded, this room is secure we can discuss the purpose behind your visit safely beyond these doors.” The Old Wolf strolled into his quarters with a comfortable familiarity, he stood by his desk as he waited for the Dragon King to enter. The King turned towards his faithful guards and loyal friends, Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Richard Lonmouth, “I will be out shortly.” With a nod of acceptance, the two Kinguard members took their place right next to the door, blocking the entrance from any potential intruders. Richard leaned over to close the door quietly behind them, giving Rhaegar and Lord Rickard Stark the privacy they desired. Rhaegar studied the room as he made his way to Lord Stark’s desk. It was a medium sized circular room, there was only one entrance and one window which made the room slightly dark and gloomy. The glass within the window, preventing the worst of the cold, chilly air from entering, the room was very plain, devoid of the extravagant stained glasswork that decorated throughout every window of the Red Keep.

 

To Rhaegar’s surprize, this was the only room he had seen so far with any artwork upon the walls, the halls that have let to the solar had been lacking any unnecessary adornments, unlike the galleries within the Red Keep, which housed hundreds of paintings from the last century. Instead of paintings, the walls were filled with tapestries, beautifully crafted to depict the most important history of House Stark from Bran the Builder to Torrhen the King Who Knelt. Of course, not every event in the history of House Stark was captured, only some the prominent events such as Theon Stark’s victory against the Andals. The Starks are a long ancient family within Westeros, they have endured for thousands of years, Rhaegar could feel the significance of the words, _The North Remembers_ , as he looked upon the tapestries.

 

“Thank you, Lord Stark,” Rhaegar replied as he studied the oldest tapestry a bit closer. It has been well preserved,  there was a scene of Bran the Builder constructing the Wall. With giants lugging huge blocks of ice and stone that seemed to have red markings on one side. Though Rhaegar could not tell if those were intentional markers or if there was perhaps drops of something that spilled on it, such as wine. In the distance, there were shadows on either side of the Wall. The shadows within the South had eyes of greenish, gold while the shadows to the North appeared to have eyes that were a faded shade of blue.

 

“Your ancestors accomplished many amazing feats Lord Stark,” The Dragon King observed. “Building the Wall, uniting the North-”

 

“Bending the knee,” Rickard added cynically.

 

This would have been a grave insult against the King within Kings Landing, however, Rhaegar understood the man’s position. He would _not_ take his bluntness to heart, though with every show of disrespect it irked him more and more. The Silver King only nodded in acknowledgment, before Lord Stark reluctantly indicated that Rhaegar should take the seat behind the desk. The lords' seat as custom suggests. The Old Wolf then sat across from The Dragon King and at Rhaegar intently with his blue-grey eyes.

 

“As I said, your family has accomplished much,” The Silver King continued, “but your family has also suffered great tragedy; especially in recent times. I and my family, unfortunately, played a part of that.” Rhaegar took a deep breath and placed his hands on the table, and clenched his fists.  “ I take full responsibility for the actions of my youth, for my part in the fate of your son and your daughter’s demise. Their deaths should never have happened, and I should never have dishonored your daughter, nor my wife. I know an apology could never remove the pain my actions have brought upon you. Nor will it undo my actions of the past, I can only hope to provide  compensation and perhaps your house and our bonds could be strengthened through a new understanding.” Rhaegar had delivered his apology in good faith,  now he could finally address his true reason for coming North. “Lord Rickard Stark I, King Rhaegar Targaryen, am here to offer my daughter’s hand, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, in marriage to your eldest grandson, Robb Stark. The future Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. I also offer in my wife’s stead, her eldest son’s hand, Lord  Joffrey Baratheon, to your granddaughter, Sansa Stark.”

 

The moment felt intensely suffocating Lord Stark’s eyes seemed to reflect the storm of the Northern sky. Those were not the eyes of a man. His eyes held a beastly anger, a cold fury that was pouring out of old wounds.

 

“Do you mean to insult my daughter further?” He forced through clenched teeth.

 

“No, my Lord,” Rhaegar softly spoke. “As I said before, I merely wish to repair the bond between our families. To restore the honor of House Stark.”

 

With a shuddering breath, The Old Wolf seemed to be restraining himself greatly. “Honor?” He repeated harshly. “She was supposed to be the Lady of Storm's End.”  His blue-grey eyes glared into Rhaegar’s violet ones. “ And you ruined her.”

 

“I did my Lord.” Confirmed the King as he could feel his own anger starting to grow within him. _By the Seven!_ These Starks knew how to infuriate him.

 

Rickard’s old gnarled fingers gripped the arms of his seat so tightly that Rhaegar feared he might injure himself, or that the armrests would break off completely. “Why,” he snarled as he forced himself up from his seat, “why did you dishonor my daughter? _My daughter_ , she was my only daughter! She was good. She was kind. And you-”

 

“Hold your tongue Lord Stark,” the Dragon King ordered in a commanding tone, as his fury started to erupt at the surface. _I will not be named a murderer for a life I did not take. I was not the one who chased her from her home! People only mention her name with sorrow, regret, and pity._ Rhaegar has heard all of the songs, rumors and gossip, Rickard Stark chased her away, he abandoned her in the time of her greatest need as the people of court ridiculed Lyanna. “Before you say something that cannot be taken back. I have been lenient with your disrespect out of courtesy for your daughter, but even I have my limits.” Taking a slow breath to calm himself Rhaegar continues, “as a father myself, I understand your fury though not your pain. I would also demand to know why my daughter was treated such with disregard for her reputation, but I cannot supply you with any details. I made a promise to your daughter, that I would never reveal the events of that day to anyone. I respect your daughter’s wishes, Lord Stark, and this is one promise I am intent to keep.”

 

The Lord of Winterfell stared at the King of the Seven Kingdom, it appeared as if his anger could engulf the room at any time. They were both trapped within their own silent battle of loss and pride, both of them loved the young wistful girl, _Lyanna_. And, it was also their love that drove her away, to face the woes of the wilderness alone. In the midst of the False Spring, that was when Lyanna was lost to them, so many years ago and yet Rhaegar could still feel the ache as he sat in her childhood home. It was only their love for Lyanna that could extinguish the fire in their souls; somewhat.

 

Neither Rhaegar nor Rickard could deny that the She-Wolf was wronged. Rhaegar could only hope that it would be possible to forge a new understanding. These words between them needed to be said. The future of the realm depends on these new alliances.  

 

 _It’s what Lyanna would have wanted._ Lyanna fought to protect the honor of a minor bannerman, she would have wanted peace within the realm.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes! I have finally gotten off my ass and started writing again! This time for Game of Thrones! With the series finally still over a year away from airing, I'm gonna need something to tide me over with my GoT addiction. I was inspired to write this story by 'forestgreen's story No Blood, No Alibi featuring a wilder Lyanna Stark. This will also feature one of my favorite ships Jon/Ygritte! Because there are not enough Jon/Ygritte shippers out there. If you are reading this story expecting it to become a Jon/Deanarys or a Jon/Sansa story I am telling you right now that will not happen. I am not against Jon/Deanarys but I am not a fan of Jon/Sansa. Those pairings have a large enough fanbase as it is I personally do not want this story to become a part of it.
> 
> In case you have not figured it out this story is an AU, set in an alternate universe. There may be some canon that you can catch but it will be mainly following a different possibility.  
> This story is also going to have a LARGE cast in POV's. Yes, I'm rising up to the challenge of having a large GoT cast. Also with each new character POV there will be a drawing with it. I am making the drawing's myself all of which can be found on my Deviant Art. Just clarifying this does NOT mean that with every Rhaegar chapter he will have a new drawing, it means he will have the same drawing unless I personally decide to update it. Updates will NOT be consistent as my beta, ScandleInTheVale, is also working on her own Game of Thrones Story that I highly recommend called, A Time for Heros. Between her schedule and mine, I cannot guarantee to be updating at a regular pace. Please be welcome to leave any comments and reviews as they will help keep me motivated to continue this story!
> 
> Special Shout Outs to: forestgreen, ScandleInTheVale and Little_Ghoust14 I could not have made this without your help! Please check out their stories as well, 'No Blood, No Alibi', 'A Time for Heros' and 'Before the Dawn'.
> 
> DISCLAIMER! I do NOT own the characters associated with 'A Song of Ice and Fire Series' nor the 'Game of Thrones Television Series'. They rightfully belong to George R.R. Martin and HBO Entertainment.


	2. The Prophesied Prince (Aegon Targaryen 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aegon drawing will be posted at a later date!

**Chapter 2: The Prophesied Prince**

_Dear gods this place is so dull,_  the Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms couldn't help but sneer inwardly, as he observed the ernest confines of Winterfell. The sky was a painters nightmare, with smeared tones of greys in light and dark, the castle itself nearly disappeared into the mess. All around him the few servants the Starks possessed, seemed to be working at a leisurely pace. It was as if they hadn't realized that the royal family had arrived.

The sounds of armor clanking together caused the prince to close his eyes in frustration. As the heir, Aegon's life was vitally important to the succession and the stability of the kingdom. As such, when traveling and sometimes even within the walls of the Red Keep, guards were expected to fall in step, close behind him. How he hated being shadowed, day in and day out. It was only during his travels that he was able to move without someone following two steps behind. His Uncle was a fierce warrior, Oberyn Martell had trained Aegon personally from the time he was big enough to hold a stick, he was more than just a trainer; he was Aegon's protector during their travels. But when the passionate charms of a man or a woman enticed Uncle Oberyn, Aegon was left to fend for himself. He entrusted Aegon with his own protection.

With a huff of annoyance Aegon turned towards his companion, Renly Baratheon, officially a ward of the crown, taken as a child to keep the rest of the Baratheons in-line, but in truth, he was Aegon's steadfast companion and true friend since his arrival in the Red Keep. Robert Baratheon was furious at the Targaryens during the time of the false spring, well more specifically he was furious with  _Prince Rhaegar_  at the time, for stealing his intended, Lyanna Stark. In order to keep the Baratheons under control, the King took custody of the youngest Stag brother. Turning the boy into a useful Targaryen commodity, a playmate for Aegon to grow-up with, a new squire for his father and a hostage to douse the fury of the great Storm Lords.

Renly had arrived at Winterfell, by traveling with Aegon himself along a coastal voyage at sea.

Aegon couldn't help but think back to his voyage at sea. He could feel himself stand on the prow of the ship with the deep blue waters trembling rhythmically against the curved wooden sides. The seagulls dipped into the sea periodically, they were always in anguish for another bite. The chill of Northern sea froze the tiny hair in his neck straight on end, closing his eyes as he took a breath he could even taste the salty air upon his tongue.  _It was the simple taste of freedom._ There were no Kingdoms to run and oaths to uphold.  _Even better, there was no damn prophecy!_ Aegon can't remember a time when his father wasn't thinking about that damn prophecy. Even in Aegon's earliest childhood memories, he could hear his father's stern voice warning him about his future duties.

The open waters were the only place were Aegon did not have to be Aegon Targaryen the Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, where he was given some form of freedom, on a ship he was his own captain and master.

 _Remember, Aegon; you are the Prince that was Promised, the Gods themselves gave you a duty my son, one that you must fulfill._ His father's usual repertoire rang through his head.

Duty, that is what his father always thought about. A duty that was bound to him upon his birth into the world, one he never chose, but it was the one duty the Gods decided to force onto his resisting shoulders, since the day he was conceived.  _A curse -_  it was more like a curse, a chain strung tightly around his throat, with its manacles squeezing the blood from his wrists and ankles.  _Binding_ him,  _caging_ him,  _enslaving_ him, his fate has been preordained; he is  _the Prophesied Prince_. This duty was something that Aegon wanted nothing to do with, Was it so wrong for him to want his freedom? Like the dragons of old?  _A dragon is not a slave._

"My prince," whispered Renly as he shuffled closer towards Aegon's side, and indicated towards the wall on the far side of the courtyard. There was an arching doorway, with a door made of Ironwood. On either side of the entrance stood the carving of a large wolf,  _direwolves_ , the silver prince corrected himself. The Stark household was as, dull, just as he had already discovered. The Northerners were stingy and brutish in their traditions, there was little to no room for decorations or other forms of luxury. Other than their banners and the children's pets, Aegon had yet to see anything else that spoke of the proud wolfblood the Starks were said to have. These two statues at the entrance were special, different, they appeared elegant against the dour greys of Winterfell.

This might be something that is worth some exploration.

The prince turned towards his friend with a mischievous grin, "Let's have ourselves a look, shall we?"

Renly placed his hand upon Aegon's shoulder with a small shake of his head, "As you wish my Prince." The Prince raised his own hand, laying it on top of Renly's and, with a small pat of understanding the Prophesized Prince strolled towards the entryway, his gait portraying confidence with a clear destination in mind. A trick he had long since perfected, if others believed he had somewhere to be they tended to stay out of his way more often than not.

He could hear the clear footsteps of Renly behind him and his ever faithful knight. With a glance over his shoulder, Aegon easily identified Ser Barristan as his shadow.  _Barristan the Bold_  was a good choice, though he has served the crown faithfully over the years Aegon also knew that this kingsguard member wasn't going to spoil the Prince's fun.

The trio quietly passed the two direwolf sentries, the ancient thick ironwood door was the only obstacle left, a few words of protest could be heard from Ser Barristan's mouth, while the engraved wolves on either side of the square arch were both waiting patiently. They shut their mouths in respective silence, studying the statues, these stone wolves were guardians of something.

A sudden gust of freezing wind blew past them as they pushed open the old door, the air colder than the open road outside of Winterfell. In single file, they had only descended a handful of stairs before a high pitched howl caused the Prophesied Prince to jump and nearly lose his footing. Were Renly not ahead of him, Aegon feared he would have humiliated himself and he might have rolled down the curving stone stairs. Ser Barristan's blade had been drawn long before the howl was completed, it's shining metal aimed directly towards their intruder who was laughing rather joyfully.

"Apologies, Your Grace," Robb Stark chuckled with his thick northern accent as his pup of a direwolf paraded down the stairs alone into the darkness. "Grey Wind was merely trying to watch out for your well being. It's not safe to wander down here without someone of Stark blood to accompany you, lest you wish to insult the dead."

"The dead?" Questioned Renly.

"Aye my Lord," confirmed Robb as he took a torch from the wall and swiftly made his way past them. "This way, Your Grace," the young Stark heir took the lead, showing the three southerners which steps to avoid, which steps were crumbling and where to lean into the wall for support. "It is a long spiral down," Robb Stark told them, "down into the crypts where the King's of Winter still lay."

"The King's of Winter are no more," Aegon stated. "They have kneeled to my family long ago."

"The King who Knelt was the one who bent the knee, Your Grace," the Young Wolf agreed, "But the Starks have ruled the North for eight thousand years. The King's down here no longer have a say in the wars of the living. They can only speak for the dead, and we must always respect the times during which they ruled the North. That is why" the Stark heir paused for a moment as they reached the floor of the first level. He held his torchlight high and bright for Aegon and his companions to see. Once everyone was on solid ground, Robb turned towards a cutout, groove within the wall and he placed the torch within it.

"Aye!" Shouted Renly, as he made his fears of the darkness known. Dousing the torch is a terrible way to see in this dour place. Aegon was curious to see these so-called King's of Winter!

Their concerns were unnecessary, for as soon as the fire touched the groove, a blazing trail of quickfire started to dash the length of the hallway, illuminating it just enough for the Prince's company to see the endless rows of statues.

"Where has your pet run off to?" Aegon asked. Robb only shrugged. "I've no idea, but he will return soon, I believe. He likes to run down here and in the Godswood. I haven't taken him out of Winterfell since he's opened his eyes."

Robb Stark quickly made his way to the other side of the hall, duplicating his actions and lighting up the other side of the tunnel. Making the endless cavern a more bearable level of brightness.

"There we are," the young Stark exclaimed as he placed the torch by the stairwell. He reached down and picked up a small sack, that was left in place for the Stark family to use. "Now then would you like to see how far down we can go before the feast, Prince Aegon?"

In silence Aegon turned towards the wall, trying to understand how the young Stark could light up the entirety of the crypts with one small flame. "What is this contraption?"

"Ah, I figured that might have caught your attention." Robb chuckled. "Those grooves there, span nearly the entirety of the crypts walls. The water from the hot springs trickles into them."

"Is the water unsafe? Is it flammable?" Renly fearfully worried.

"No, no!" Robb clarified. "Oils from the ground drip into the groove and lie atop of the water for us to burn. But only in small amounts. We must open the valves for the water to run every day in order to prevent the oil from over filling. The earth in this area is deep and too hard to dig through, but the castle is sturdy for fear of any oil getting close to open flames, therefore the oil only flows down here. It is perfectly safe. My ancestor built this duct by himself, in order to protect us and allow us to honor our dead."

The prince had never heard of such before, that the Stark castle would create such an interesting feat of engineering for their crypts were never shared within the South. Prince Jacaerys Velaryon had ridden to Winterfell during the Dance of Dragons, Aegon was sure that he was never made privy to any architecture within the crips.

"Don't you light candles for your dead?" Aegon wondered aloud,  _it was a common enough practice._  A way to let the dearly departed know that their family was in their memories.

"Of course we do," The young Stark gruffly stated, his insulted tone, was one Aegon was not accustomed to receiving. "However, it is impossible to light thousands of candles for the dead without the aid of the small folk. But we will not endanger their lives for our family's honor. Hundreds of generations of my family lie within these crypts, Your Grace. We cannot go down and light a candle for each of them. This light-duct Bran the Builder designed allows us to honor the dead of House Stark. Even if we can no longer reach their resting place, our family knows they are never forgotten. For  _the North Remembers_."

Again, Argon caught a darker implication to the young wolf's words. "Why would you be endangering the small folk's lives for lighting candles within the crypts?"

"There are plenty of reasons Your Grace, the main one is that the lower levels of the crypts are in poor shape. They had collapsed at some point in the past few hundred years or so. My father and I, intend to repair the damage at some point but it is dangerous work."

Ser Barristain was the next to speak, "And what are the other reasons - why is it dangerous? You mentioned something about traveling without a member of House Stark would be insulting to the dead?"

Robb Stark's eyes seemed to darken, he paused in his step and angled his head towards the elder man. "Aye I did, pardon me sir, but we haven't been formally acquainted. You are a member of the kingsguard are you not?" The red-headed boy spoke with only curiosity, probably trying to figure out which of the kingsguard was in his presence.

Ser Barristan gave him a kind, yet amused, smile before giving the young Lord a slight bow. "Yes my Lord, I am Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard."

Robb's eyes nearly fell from their sockets with awe, as his stunned face bled into a wide excited smile, that Aegon was used to seeing when Ser Barristan met someone who admired him. "Ser Barristan the Bold!" Robb rejoiced, "It is an honor to meet you!"

Ser Barristan, the prince could tell, was about to make a comment on Robb Stark's treatment of the royal family. But in truth Aegon paid the young man no heed, it was rather refreshing, to feel as if he wasn't being treated with any special attention, as most Lords and Ladies were prone to do. The Starks, or rather, this Stark, seemed to be a rather comfortable fellow. Though, he still couldn't decide if he would want to call the lad good-brother or not. While the Prince may find this Stark's company interesting enough his sister was another matter entirely.

Renly let out a small cough, "do continue Lord Stark, why isn't it safe for people outside of House Stark to be down here for long?"

That seemed to drain Robb out of his initial excitement. "Ah, well. Come this way, it is easier to show you when you stand before one of the graves." With that, they continued their way down the hall. Time seemed to have lost its meaning here as they descended further and further into the crypts. Aegon was surprised to find himself almost out of breath, it was becoming harder to breathe. Stealing a glance at Renly and Ser Barristan he could see that they were experiencing the same problems. Robb did not Stark appear to have any breathing difficulties.

 _Only those with Stark Blood can be here,_ Aegon thought with sudden horror.  _What happens to those who don't have the wolf blood?_

"Here we are," whispered Robb Stark, stopping before an impressive statue of a large man sitting in what appeared to be a stone throne with some strange inscriptions as decorations, Aegon was sure that the symbols and inscriptions were words in some ancient language, it was a language he could not decipher. Across the stone man's lap was an iron sword that could have seen better years. At the sight of it, Aegon was surprised, it was as if a Lord was denying him  _Guest Rights_  for the blade was bare and drawn as if the statue could grab it in an instant to run him through. Curling from behind the throne and across the stone man's feet laid a stone direwolf, seemingly resting by its master's side.

Robb set the pouch down at his feet he took two small candles from within. He placed them upon the stone man's waiting hands before reaching in to remove a long thin piece of wood. He turned to the line of fire upon the wall to set the tip of the kindling ablaze. He quickly lit the candles before tossing the burning piece into the inflamed groove. Once the young lord was satisfied with his preparations for honoring the dead, the young Stark closed his eyes and bowed his head in respect, as he simply greeted, "Hello Uncle Brandon."

If Aegon wasn't surprised by who they were greeting, he would have also closed his eyes in respect. As such he couldn't remove his gaze from the memorial of the man his grandfather had burned to death. Because of his shock, he had noticed the slight flickering in the flames of the candles. There was a constant cold lingering within the depths of the shadows, it made the hair in his neck stand on end. A strange pressure was resting upon his heart, they were walking amongst a tribute to the dead, and yet Aegon couldn't shake the feeling that the lifeless stone eyes were watching him closely. And they did not approve of presence. He was being weighed and they found his unworthy. It was one of the few times within his life, where he has ever felt undeserving.

 _I shouldn't be here,_  the Prophesized Prince realized as he stared at the stone carving of Brandon Stark then as his eyes fell on the naked blade.  _You are not welcome here,_ the sword seemed to mean. It was right, Aegon had not been given the right to be here, merely wandered in of his own accord. As a way to find something interesting in the dullest kingdom or his country. But...  _Gods, after what my family had done to this poor man... I truly have no right to be here!_ In his fear and panic, Aegon had begun to adjust his footing, betraying his desire to flee, when Robb Stark stopped him with a few words.

"Don't insult the dead," he whispered, though the words were barely whispered Aegon felt as if they were yelled out loud. Quickly he bowed his head and corrected his footing. Closing his violet eyes, he respectfully greeted the dead man. "It is an honor to meet you Lord Brandon Stark."  _I'm ashamed of the manner of your death, I pray to all the gods, the New and the Old that you have found some peace._

The four of them stood in silence for a few minutes more, with each second slowly growing longer and more uncomfortable. Would Aegon have experienced these same feelings had Robb Stark decided that they would visit a different grave? Or would it similar if, they moved closer to some of the other graves, with the overwhelming sense of dread, of not belonging within this tombed city of the dead, would all Southerners slowly suffocate down here?

Once the prayers were done, Robb Stark turned back to them, he left the candles, to melt into the palms of Brandon's stone hands.

It was only when they had moved past the stone-likeness of Brandon Stark that Aegon started to feel like he could breathe a little easier again.

"Did you enjoy the experience, Your Grace?" wondered Robb.

"It was suffocating." Was the prince's only response.

The Northman nodded as if that was exactly what he expected. "Aye, I would think so. The dead are always present, they are often hostile to strangers. One time, a few years ago, I had talked Theon into assisting me in pranking my brothers and sisters. I was to lead them down here, claiming I saw a ghost, and Theon was supposed to jump out and scare them. Only...well it never happened. I had left Theon in here but soon he comes back out, running after me, he was clearly very shaken. But he only said, 'There is a reason the Ironborn send their dead to the sea. We aren't made to be underground.' I have tried to get more of an answer out of him, it took a couple of days but he eventually relented, as soon as I was gone he started to have trouble breathing. It's a common claim, from the servants; even my mother, when she had tried to visit Uncle Brandon she suffered from similar symptoms. For even though she carries the Stark name; she doesn't have our blood."

 _How terrifying,_ Aegon thought,  _the ghosts of the past having a strong presence within the crypts. Don't their spirits go to the god's when they die?_  The Starks like many of the Northerners do not follow the Seven, but the Old Gods. Praying for trees and other oddities. Believing that the gods are one with the land rather than creating the earth for their loyal men.

_Is it because the Old Gods can be found here amongst them that their dead do not leave?_

"My Lord," Renly had suddenly asked "if I may there is one thing I would like you to explain. Why do you place swords on the statues laps? Is this a Northern custom?"

At this Robb Stark turned his head, surprised by Renly's question. "Is that so odd?" To which Renly remained silent, trying to plan out his next words no doubt, but his silence prompted Lord Stark to explain the strange custom. Having the dead reject the livings Guest Rights is surely what was intended...was it?

"Not all Northern houses bury their dead, and those that do often do not have crypts like such. Their dead is burned and buried or burned and kept in a small urn. As far as I know, only my family has the means for such, I cannot say for sure though, as I have not been to other family crypts." Admitted the Northman, through fear not. Guest Rights for the dead does not mean the same as for the living."

"What do you mean my Lord?" questioned Ser Barristan.

"My family is a long one Ser Barristan." Robb then turned towards Aegon's group and stared them down with an expression similar to the stone face of his uncle. "The King's of Winter were men hardened by the land. It was a harsher time then, a crueler time, and Northerners have long memories. Until their souls have rested they are not allowed to leave, the sword keeps their soul's here until the gods deem them ready to embrace them. Some of the swords rust faster than others. My father as a boy once traveled far in the crypts and swore he saw a sword still upon The King Who Knelt lap. He believes that Torrhen Stark may never forgive himself for kneeling, or perhaps the Old Gods will never forgive him."

With that said, Robb Stark turned, leading the southerners back from whence they came. But still, Aegon wondered, one something he noticed. While Brandon Starks crypt was there he did not see one for his sister.

The prince forgot his curiosities when the stairwell that led to the outside world came into view once more. Much to his surprise, Robb's pet was at the foot of the stairs. Happily waiting for his master and his companions, or perhaps he was guarding the entrance. The beast was nearly the size of a decently large dog, yet even a blind man would be able to tell that this creature was still a pup. Aegon thought back to some of his earlier questions.

My Lord, I was wondering if you could tell me, where did you find these wolves? I had firmly believed that the direwolves were all extinct."  _Like the dragons_ , he silently added to himself.

The Northerner laughed, "Ah, well Your Grace the direwolves are not extinct, they just live beyond the Wall these days. These direwolves," Robb pointed proudly towards his wolf, "are the first direwolves that have been spotted in the North, in two hundred years! How we came about them though... it's a rather dreary story, my prince."

The young Lord's voice took on a more somber tone as he recalled the tale. "Two moons ago we captured a deserter from the Night's Watch. As Your Grace well know, the punishment for desertion is death, and as our tradition dictates, the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. My grandfather took me, along with Theon and Bran in order to witness the execution." Robb seemed to reflect on the moment, he placed the small pouch with candles by the stair where he found them originally. As he reached for the torch that was still brightly lit, Robb continued his story.

"On our way back through Wintertown, there was a commotion at one of the meat houses. It had caught fire, you see, what we found at the sight was something I could never envision seeing." He paused for a heartbeat or two, "it was a giant direwolf! She was running from the fiery cage with her fur aflame!

Spooked our horses quite a bit too! But despite that, Bran chased after her. Grandfather stayed to deal with the fire, he sends some men to gather Father and the maester to help with the wounded, then he ordered Theon and me to retrieve Bran. By the time we found him, the direwolf was lying in pain while my little brother was watching from a distance, with five scrawling pups surrounding him!" He laughed.

 _A burned wolf_ , Aegon grimace at the thought.  _Like Brandon Stark_. "The mother must have suffered terribly to have died in such a way."

"What? Oh, no, she isn't dead."

Astonished, the prince shared his surprise with Renly, who voiced Aegon's thoughts. "But the burns from the fire...you said she was aflame?"

"Aye she was, but not for long. She did suffer a lot from the flames but Grandfather demanded that we treat her. ' _Tis not right to kill our house's sigil, especially when it is a rare creature such as she.'_  After the fire in Wintertown was put out he found us, he brought Father and Maester Luwin along with him. They threw the she-wolf a slab of meat, which was filled with sleeping medicine, luckily the pups were still blind and distracted by Bran. Once the mother was asleep, we brought the she-wolf and her pups to Winterfell. Maester Luwin treated her burns and bound them with ointments. Lya has healed quite well, though she still has some patches of fur that have yet to regrow. She stays in the godswood, preferring to be away from most people. With the arrival of the royal party, I believe she will be rather scarce."

Ser Barristan was the one to catch the name of the she-wolf. "Lya?"

Robb Stark grimly nodded. "For my aunt, my father believes that the she-wolf is Aunt Lyanna reborn. Finally coming home after being away for so long."

* * *

In the end, their small party had plenty of time for the feast and as such the crown prince sought to do his duty by his sister.

He interrogated the Stark lad as if he had committed the most heinous of crimes throughout the Seven Kingdoms.

He's gathering as much information about the boy as he could. Along with that of his family. Robb Stark had merely proved to Aegon what he had feared from the start. The young man was honorable, respectful and seemed to be more on the cheerful side, in contrast to some of the other family members. He cared deeply for his family, the living and the dead, as such when the young Stark girl, Arya, chose to hide amongst them as her Septa was trying to take her to her lessons, Robb Stark had claimed that he hadn't seen his sister, even though the girl had been hiding in the stables. She soon took off quickly after with her own direwolf in tow. Shortly afterward the Greyjoy ward, Theon, had become a part of their group and, due to his teasing, Aegon had even learned that Robb had yet to know the comfort found in a woman's arms. The lad had yet to go to a brothel, not that Winterfell had any, there was only one establishment in Wintertown, and Theon recommended a redhead by the name of Ros to himself.

Much to the Prince's dismay, it seemed as if his father had found his sister the best suitor, despite the location. Had the Stark's lived in a more suitable environment, Aegon would have no concerns about the match.

As such, he could not stop the uneasy feeling that had been following him around since they first entered the crypts. Has a ghost of House Stark been following him? Was it Robb's own uncle, who now haunted the Crown Prince? Was his grandfather's madness starting to seep into his own head?

He did not know, and that was what truly frightening to him.

The feast itself was actually anything except dull. The Great Hall of Winterfell was the centerpiece of the castle, the room was filled to the brim with people. The food may not have been as grand as Aegon has been used to, but there was more than enough for the people there. The Northerners were a wild bunch, their shrieks of laughter echoed throughout the night as if this night could be their last on earth. This dour land with its hauntings was a place of survival, where the living thrived and celebrated harder.

It was strange to think about as his father waited patiently for the opportune moment to silence the room with him rising from the Throne of Winter. Next to father on his right, Rickard Stark sat in grisly silence. It appeared as if he was watching the festivities with a smirk in his eyes. The sight of his people being happy made the Old Wolf sentimental. Lord Eddard and his wife accompanied his father at the high table. Lord Eddard's children sat right in front of the royal party. Enjoying the company of their friends and, in Robb's case, befriending new people.

Aegon, his sister, and the Lioness along with her cubs sat on the King's left. The Lioness sat as close as she could manage to father and young Tommen sat at the farthest end. His cousin, Princess Adrianne, had been placed beside Sansa and Arya Stark, she was clearly entertaining them with her tales of the South, it seemed to make the young redhead swoon and the defiant young girl curious.

Once his father stood, he waited a few moments for the attention of all the occupants of the Great Hall to be on him. He stood as silent and hard as the stone dragons on Aegon's ancestral island, Rhaegar Targaryen could be a fearsome sight with his eerie presence. Sometimes his father seemed to be untouchable, even to Aegon himself, for the way he held himself was with an otherworldly confidence that Aegon couldn't hope to replicate. Yet, here in this keep, Aegon could see the flaws in his father's royal shell. His guilt for fucking the She-Wolf glowed in his indigo eyes, making them, even more, darker than usual, his eyes shined like dragonglass. It was clouding his judgment, he was only thinking about himself and not about the future of his only daughter.

"My Lords and Ladies," the king began. "I am proud to be here with you all, your cordial hospitality has been nothing but generous. However, many of you are probably wondering about the nature for a royal visit. It has been many a generation since a Targaryen has journeyed North." For a moment only the agreements of a few whispering men could be heard before his father continued head-on into the moment Aegon has been dreading the whole day. He silently reached out and grasped his sister's hand, tightening his grip when he felt her shake. "This afternoon I had the pleasure of meeting with both Lord Rickard Stark and his heir Lord Eddard Stark. It is with great honor that I am here to announce a future union between our families!"

There were a few gasps that had filled the room but only for an instant, before the Northerners could react the King finally said those accused words. "I will now formally announce the betrothal of my daughter, Princess Rhaenys of House Targaryen to Lord Robb Stark of Winterfell!" With an indication of his father's hand, Robb Stark stood from his seat and came to stand before the King. He tightened his grip once more on his sister's hand before Aegon stood, doing his duty to pull her chair away from the table so that she could walk towards Robb Stark alone. Once they both stood before the King, Rhaegar turned them towards the crowd and raised his arms. To the men in the front, it would appear as if he was about to embrace them both. North and South, truly united as one.

To Aegon, all he could see was the floating heads of his sister and his new friend above his father's arms. The long crimson cloak his father wore draped over his arms, looking more like a waterfall of blood pooling to the floor, completely covering their bodies from the Prince's view.

The roar of the crowd Aegon had been expecting came at once and with it a growing sense of dread.

* * *

It was the hour of the bat when Aegon met with his sister. Since their arrival earlier that day he had yet to speak to her privately, he wanted to hear her thoughts about the betrothal. Before arriving at Winterfell she had voiced her displeasure at the match, whilst they arrived at White Harbour. She would rather prefer to be in the South with her family. Aegon wished their father would not banish her to the North, but he has since met her betrothed. Robb Stark was a good man, a better man than Aegon could have hoped for his sister, he only prayed that she agreed. The North was a strange and somewhat foreign place, that much is true, but the lad was kind and he has already fallen for his sister's beauty.

The Prince greeted his sister's guards as he knocked on her door. He was not ready for bed and knew Rhaenys would still be awake as well. She has been suffering terrible night terrors as of late, dreams of an all-encompassing fire that consumed every and icy water drowning all in its path. Which made no sense to him, water doused fire. How could both coincide together?

His sister opened her door slowly, dressed in twice as much as she normally wore to bed. Thick black woolen robes encased her entire body, with her hair unbound, never had he seen her look so overwhelmed. The cold has not been kind to her. Aegon, for all his travels, was somewhat more used to the chill in the air, the air upon the open sea had a certain bite to it at times. Though, the North, he would admit, is much colder than even he was used to.

"What do you want?" She breathed out, he could see the agony in her eyes and sighed.

"I want to talk to you, do you have a moment?" He knew she did, what else would she be doing in an empty room in the middle of this frozen hell.

Rhaenys sighed in resignation, stepping back to allow him to enter her chambers.

The guards would report this to his father, he knew that with certainty, but Aegon and his sister have never done anything that would warrant any concern. Unlike his Uncle Viserys who desired his Aunt Daenerys, Aegon did not lust after his sister. The same could be said for Rhaenys, while their closeness would make one question their affections for one another, it was still and has always been a sibling's love.

His sister's bedroom was a mirror of his own, with a large four poster bed set in the middle of the room. Thick drapes enclosed the bedding in order to add another layer of protection against the cold. Rhaenys has yet to release the drapes from their ties, as Aegon has done in his room. Her traveling trucks has been placed on the opposite side of the bedroom and there were a handful of candle's along with one of his sister's books. The room itself was a decent size, though tiny in comparison to their chambers in the Red Keep or even Dragonstone. Robb had explained to him as they walked to the feast, that the reason why so many of the rooms were more compact in size, was in order to preserve the heat. The heated water of the hot springs traveled through the walls. A reasonable solution. That was how the Northerners seemed to survive, due to their logical choices. If their castle was as airy as the Dragonstone or the Red Keep then all the heat from the springs would mean nothing.

"What do you think about your betrothed?" He did not intend to stay here the entire night, if Rhaenys had her way she would have strung him along all night long, never giving him a chance to ask his questions. Better to get to the meaning of the conversation right at the start of it.

His sister's eyes, as dark as their mother's, met his own, resignation and defeat staring at him as though it made no difference. "I haven't even said two words to him, I dear say, you have gotten to know my future husband better than I have. Tell me little brother, what do you think about Robb Stark?"

 _Ah, sister, always hating to speak without having all of the answers._ With a sigh he turned to stand before the stone wall, the flickering of the candlelight casting his shadow against the far wall near the door. Changing his silhouette from that of a man to monster and back. "Now don't be that way, I had to get an assessment of him. He is to be my future good-brother along with Loras Tyrell. Though I must say I had a far more entertaining time with Robb Stark than I had initially believed I would. The lad is honorable to a fault, especially towards his family. He is the definition of both the Tully's and Stark's house words. To him his family will always come first, a man who would never abandon or disgrace you Rhae. I dare say, but I believe father may have found you the best man in the Seven Kingdoms."

Her hands clenched, to his confusion she seemed more dismayed at his approval of the Robb. This should have made her happy, her betrothed was not like his own, a puppet in the Great Game that had been chosen for them even before she was born. When his father was preparing for the Rebellion he promised Lady Olenna Tyrell that if she gave him the support of the Reach, should he need it, then he would promise his firstborn son and heir to the first born daughter of Lord Mace Tyrell. Aegon was blessed that his betrothed is a true Golden Rose..

As such Aegon had always known that he would one day marry Lady Margaery Tyrell. Though his father had not needed the Reaches army for the Rebellion to succeed, he had still promised Aegon to the girl. For Rhaegar Targaryen, breaking a vow to his wife was nothing compared to the promises he made to his bannermen.

"Why are you so displeased? Robb Stark hasn't even touched a woman, I doubt that he would ever lay with anyone else knowing that you are his intended." With a comforting smile, he hoped it would settle her fears at knowing that her future husband was as untouched as she was. If anything that seemed to make Rhaenys even more upset.

"I didn't choose him myself," she whispered.

In that instant, Aegon knew why his sister was so upset. In Dorne, more often than not, noble women, particularly women of the Martells, were given a chance to voice their opinion about their betrothed. Their own mother had gone on a journey with their Uncle Oberyn when she had begun searching for a husband. Her first choice, being Ser Baelor Hightower...Except, shortly after they had met he couldn't control his bowels. Uncle had been calling the poor man Ser Baelor  _Breakwind_ for years because of the incident.

Though like the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, marriage is often done for political measures, as such when the Targaryens finally assimilated Dorne into the Seven Kingdoms, unlike the rest of the kingdoms, both parties, the bride and groom, had the right to voice their opinions about a potential match.  _Before_ , any paperwork could be signed on the matter. Rhaenys has been denied those rights and now the betrothal was set in place without any prior discussions.

"I assumed that father spoke to you on the matter before we set sail," Aegon whispered in shock. Rhaenys had to know the reason for going North beforehand, father has told-

Shocked to the marrow of his bones, Aegon, with a horrible realization, remembered that the King's party had left for the North earlier than Aegon and Rhaenys. His sister was returning from her extended stay in the Reach with Adrianne and as such hasn't been home since their father had remarried. Having left shortly after the ceremony, Rhaenys has probably not been able to speak with father about her own marriage. The decision to go North was made without her knowledge or consent. She probably felt betrayed, even by him, her own brother, whom met with her upon her return, only to announce that father has ordered them to go North, and meet with him upon the Kingsroad. They had taken separate ships North, though they had departed at the same time. He never got the chance to speak with her until they docked at White Harbor.

"Have-had you not spoken to father on this matter when we met up with him, once we reached the Kingsroad?" He demanded to know, his sister wouldn't have kept quiet about this. She was losing everything that she values with this marriage arrangement, while their father was seemingly gaining all he has ever desired. A truce with the Starks, a loyal ally in whatever the damned prophecy spoke of,. perhaps there was more, better trade and relations with the North, but his sister, his only sister was losing her home, her name, and her title. She would no longer be the  _Princess of Dragonstone_ , instead, she would merely be the next  _Lady Stark_.

"How could I? Whenever he spoke to me he seemed so sure, 'This is your duty Rhaenys, long ago during the Dance our ancestor had made a promise to the Starks, a Princess should have been given to them in marriage. I have done an extensive investigation of the boy, he is a good man and will never dishonor you.' That is what he said, he never asked my opinion about the match. Everytime I have mentioned the name  _Stark_ , he would get that look upon his face. The expression, when he's thinking of...her."

 _Lyanna Stark!_ Aegon hissed in his mind as he thought about the woman who he has heard many whispers about. The woman who seduced his father away from his mother for a single night. Her actions led to her brother running South to face Rhaegar in combat, only to lead to his death. They say Brandon Stark was the spark that started the Rebellion, but Aegon believed it was the mad bitch who truly started it all. The Woman Who Stole a Dragon, that was the name they called Lyanna Stark in the taverns of the South. The She Wolf who tried to escape from her life because of her wild ways, who died in the snow from the jaws of wolves. Poor, wild,  _Lyanna Stark_.

The hypocrisy of his father never ceased to amaze him, within a span of ten days he had fallen for a wild woman who went against society. Who, according to rumor, did not want to marry Robert Baratheon and as such went to Rhaegar in the hopes of breaking the betrothal.

Now his sister, a Dornish Woman and Princess, was being given the same treatment Lyanna Stark had received. Her betrothed was chosen for her against her wishes, will his sister act out the same way Lyanna did? Aegon hoped not, for he knew should someone disgrace his sister he would gladly burn, just as Brandon Stark burned if it meant she would be safe.

"Why do you think our father sullied his honor for that wench?" Aegon forced through his teeth as he clenched his fists to curb his rage. "On the way here I tried to learn what caused him to act so rashly, yet once again he refused to tell me. Keeping her secrets is what he was doing. He loved mother dearly, yet he still keeps the bitch's secrets. Guilt is the only reason why, that damn prophecy is what did it, he wanted the third head of his dragon and he got a girl killed. Mother couldn't have anymore children after me and father knew it. Even before I was born the maesters warned him that the burden could be too much for her."

This wasn't what he had come here for, he had wanted to learn his sisters thoughts on her betrothal, instead, here they were, once again trying to understand their father's choices and actions of the past.

"You're a fool Aegon if you think that father simply laid with the Stark girl because of that prophecy," Rhaenys stated almost mockingly, she seemed to shed some of her earlier distress. Moving onto the more familiar ground, speaking of what she knew, that was his sister. "Haven't you noticed? Every year on  _that woman's_ name day father sings  _Brave Danny Flint_  in her honor. Every year on the anniversary of the Tournament at Harrenhal he has a new crown of winter roses made. He faithfully keeps her secrets, he treasures her memory. No, dear brother, if it was lust or that damned prophecy of his that attracted him to Lyanna Stark, then I doubt he would have shown such consideration towards her memory."

"Like Cersei Lannister?" He gave a disbelieving laugh. Oh the irony, father somehow has to this third child, ' _the dragon must have three head's'_  he would always say. And yet..."Some broodmare she turned out to be. Father's been fucking her for months, she should be with child by now yet her belly hasn't grown, her moon blood still comes. Where is this supposed third child?"

She sneered in disgust at him, "I do hate it when you speak in such a way. Too much time with Uncle has made you uncouth. But nevertheless, it is strange that she is still without child. Do you suppose she has been drinking some tonic?"

Aegon rested his head against the stonewall, his arms crossed in front of him as he tried to remember if there had been anything out of sorts with the Lioness. " Some of my most trusted people are watching her. She hasn't taken anything out of the ordinary that would prevent such a thing. She loves that crown far too much to risk it with treason."

"Is she perhaps waiting then?" Rhaenys questioned quietly as she stared into the flames from her seat on her bed.

Curious the Prince turned to watch his sister as she seemed to become lost in her thoughts. A trait she picked up from their father. "Waiting? What for?"

"Cersei knows nothing of the prophecy," the Princess explained. Rhaenys then reached out for one of her books,  _ **The Doom of Valyria**_ , a historical recounting of the fall of the greatest empire in the world before the Doom took them all. Settling into her bed she then turned to look at Aegon, "she wouldn't know that father truly desires another daughter instead of a son."

"You think she means to remove us first before having any children?" It would make sense if the Lioness had a hand in prompting their father to marry Rhaenys off quickly, once she became a Stark she would be placed even further down the line of succession than she already is.

She nodded in agreement. "The woman is a leach wanting to drain father of everything, but we are the fire that is keeping her from feasting."

"We'll protect him," His father was and will always be a hypocrite, but he was still both his father and the King. He needed to be protected from all threats, especially those within his own home. "I won't let that woman dig her claws into father's sides for long. Once she has given us a sister she will be gone from the Red Keep." He playfully smirked towards his elder sister, "Perhaps the darkness I'm supposed to defeat isn't as grand an enemy as father expects. What if it is only a greedy Lioness I'm to battle?"

She laughed, "always searching for ways to claim you faced the darkness, so you can freely travel as you wish. Oh dear little brother, never change."

He laughed, remembering the last trip he had to Essos.

"Speaking of which, do you recall that I met a woman in Essos who claims that she can help me with the prophecy?" Whenever it came to the prophecy, there was only a few people Aegon was able to discuss the matter with. His family on his Targaryen side mainly, those were the ones whom he was able to confide in. There were only a select few outside of his immediate family. His Uncles from the Martell side knew of it, but they did not believe in his father's obsession. Ser Barristan, Ser Arthur and Jon Connington were some of the others.

"You are not supposed to be speaking of it to outsiders," Rhaenys clarified.

"True, but I never mentioned the prophecy to her, sister. On my travels through Volantis she approached our group, she spoke about the prophecy as if she had read about it from our own vaults. She claimed that her red god has shown her visions of me and that she knew how to help me with my purpose."

His sister had a doubtful look on her face. She was never one to fall for superstitions, the gods were one thing, but a random woman on the street was another matter entirely.

"And what does this deranged woman have to do with anything?"

"She could not travel with Uncle and I back to Westeros. She had other immediate duties at her temple. Whilst we have been traveling North, it appears as if she has found passage for herself to Westeros. A letter has arrived a few days ago here at Winterfell, and it was left for me to read, it was from Aunt Daenerys at Dragonstone, she informed me that Lady Melisandre has arrived and will be awaiting me."

* * *

Aegon face the next morning with a touch of dismay, Aegon was kept warm enough under layers of furs, the drapes and the warmth of the castle, yet he still had trouble keeping himself calm with the idea of meeting his father. He was furious at the mistreatment of Rhaenys and he wanted to confront the King about the neglect of his daughter's feelings on the matter of her engagement.

Of course, he didn't get the chance to confront his father.

Young Brandon Stark raced to find Aegon specifically that morning. His red curls and blue eyes mirrored his elder brother's looks, he came in search on Aegon with his sandy colored wolf faithfully following right behind him. Robb and Theon were going to take the lad hunting today, and they extended that invitation to Aegon himself. He could deny such a request, however, if he agreed it will give him some time to process how he should face his father on his sister's situation. He did like Robb, and he hoped that Rhaenys would like him as well, in time. But their father should talk to her about the situation and she should have a chance to speak. That would alleviate some of Rhaenys' fears, while also keeping the Stark's in line.  _Perhaps, we can delay the wedding,_  he thought,  _only for a few years in order for Rhaenys to grow accustomed to her betrothed._

With that mindset, the Prophesized Prince accepted the young Starkling's invitation. He quickly made his way back towards his chamber to gather his sword, riding boots and cloak. Bran awaited outside talking excitedly with his guard for the day. The Lioness's brother, Ser Jaime Lannister.

Prior to the marriage of his father and Cersei, Aegon would have counted Ser Jaime among one of the most trustworthy people he knew. Ser Jaime was originally sent to Storm's End in order to keep an eye on Lord Robert Baratheon, he ended up spending a few years there as it turned out. Robert Baratheon had voiced his desires quite openly, he wanted to go after Rhaegar during the Rebellion, as such extra measures have been taken in order to subdue Robert. Renly was taken as a ward, and Ser Jaime was sent as a representative of the crown to Storm's End, on a regular basis. It was a constant warning and reminder to the Stag, his father was ever watchful.

But once the marriage happened...Ser Jaime changed. There was a tension in the man that set Aegon's nerves on edge. It wasn't always there, but the Prince was able to notice the changes in the man. He was more jumpy, distracted and had gone to measures to ensure he was almost always on duty. Though he no longer guarded the King's bedchambers at night, where his golden twin was no doubt fucking Aegon's father. As such, this behavioral change in the knight had made Aegon more weary of Sir Jaime, enough to no longer trust him with his secrets.

"Ser Jaime! Ser Jaime! How did you train to become a knight?" Bran exclaimed.  _Ah, yet another fan,_  Aegon realized as he recalled Robb's earlier fascination with Ser Barristan.

"Come along now Bran, the best time for hunting is when the animals are still sleepy," the Prince called out.

Ser Jaime ruffled the boys wild hair, "I'll tell you along the way lad. I may even train you while we are here." With a kind smile, Ser Jaime followed after them, Sandor Clegane also known as the Baratheon's Dog,  _The Hound_ , met them along the way. A Westlander who serves house Lannister, he had left his home when he was young and gained a fierce reputation as he grew older and more experienced. Only going to the Stormlands on the order of serving Cersei Lannister, and now, he serves her son.

A young blond boy dressed in red and gold appeared from behind the burned face man. With a thick, black furred cloak draped across his shoulders. Joffrey.

"Uncle, mother wishes to have a word with you. She asked me to tell you that she is expecting you at breakfast." The blonde green eyed boy, almost mirroring his uncle in looks, he gave Aegon a sly grin. As if he shared a secret, with you and you alone. To a maiden, perhaps such a smile might make her swoon. But Aegon had perfected such a look himself and would not fall prey to it's falsehood. Politely smiling in return Aegon had to suppress the glee of denying the young Lord.

"Apologies Lord Joffrey, Ser Jaime is my guard for today and I will have need of him, until I return. Please inform your mother that Ser Jaime would only be able to answer her summons closer to lunch time, rather than breakfast. Perhaps even later, have a good day my Lord." Aegon nods towards the boy as he dismissed him, Bran, his wolf and Jaime proceeded on their mission by stepping around the golden stag. Instead of accepting his dismissal the boy had the nerve to block their path.

"I believe you misunderstood, Your Grace, my mother,  _The Queen_ , demands to speak with my Uncle. Are you denying her order?"

 _The balls on this one,_ Aegon fumed. "Your mother may be Queen boy, but my father is  _The King_ and I am his heir. I cannot walk around this castle without a member of the kingsguard protecting me. Your Uncle has been assigned that duty today by my father himself, are you trying to deny the  _King's order?_ "

They stood in the courtyard facing against each other, Aegon was glaring down at Joffrey, measuring his height and slight build. The boy was only a few years younger than Aegon himself and still, the Prince wondered if the young Storm Lord balls dropped yet.

Finally, like a misbehaving kitten, Joffrey backed down, his humiliated gaze drifting toward the ground in defeat. But the restrained hiss in his next words could not be missed. "No...Your Grace."

_That tone will get you nowhere near my court once I inherit my father's throne._

Satisfied with the resolution to the confrontation, Aegon followed young Brandon Stark towards the stable where they intended to meet Robb and Theon.

Once they were out of hearing range Ser Jaime spoke "I fear I must apologize, Your Grace, my... nephew can be a bit impatient. He is not usually in such a foul mood, I fear perhaps the Northern climate is not treating him as kindly as one would expect."

It was a half-assed excuse, Aegon could just as well have gone without it. But he understood Ser Jaime's worry. While the Prince may no longer trust the man as he had before, he knew Ser Jaime to love his family dearly.

"Fear not Ser Jaime, I won't have your nephew punished for using such a tone."

_Not yet._

* * *

"Shush," Theon whispered as they eyed the stag in the forest. Their group has grown since Aegon invited Renly and Ser Richard Lonmouth to join them. Making their hunting group much larger and louder than intended, they were scaring away most of the game.

Bran was, much to Aegon's surprise, the quietest given his inexperience with hunting. Robb said it was because Bran was always climbing around the castle. He had to remain very quiet to ensure that the rest of the family or the servants didn't know what he was doing. Their parents have strictly forbidden him from climbing around on the castle wall and the high trees within the godswood, he has learned to move in silence. The two knights, Ser Richard and Ser Jaime, was easily the loudest their armor clicked and clanked with every move they made. If the Prince could have ordered them to leave the armor behind or to stay behind at Winterfell, he would have. As such that was one of the few orders that exceeded his status, the protection of the royal family was absolute.

They have been hunting for hours, it was now well into the afternoon and Aegon was truly starving. They haven't caught anything big enough to share, as of yet. Maybe some treats for the young wolves, but it wasn't much. Both Robb and Bran had left their direwolves at the Godswood as they called it. Telling them to go see their mother, since the pups were still so young the boys didn't believe them big enough to safely hunt larger prey.

Theon was in position, his bow expertly drawn and poised on the animal. As the best archer of the group, he was taking the killing blow. Aegon wasn't upset with that, only being a decent shot rather than an expert. His father had him trained in all matters of weaponry since he was old enough to walk, it made him quite versatile. However, his favorite was weapon still remained the spear, having trained with Uncle Oberyn for years, he learned the weapon expertly under the tutelage of the Red Viper himself.

Focusing on the prey the hunting party held their breath as one, they waited for Theon to loosen the killing blow. Suddenly the buck's head shot up, it was gazing towards the North, giving Theon the perfect shot right through its head.

The stag never stood a chance.

"Good shot, Greyjoy!" Aegon praised, which caused a satisfied smirk on the Ironborn's face. "Looks like we'll be having some deer tonight!"

With a laugh, they stood from their hiding places and make their way towards the deer, only for Robb to call out to his brother. "Bran! Come on, Bran! We're going home now, mother and father are probably wondering what is taking us so long!"

Turning back he noticed the boy staring out in the direction the deer has been gazing before he was shot, the boy had a confused and curious expression on his face. "What do you think caught its attention?" He wondered.

"Probably another rabbit!" Greyjoy called, "Now come on Stark! We don't have all day!"

Resigned Bran decided to walk towards their group, but before he could reach them a cawing sound echoed throughout the forest.

 _No..._ thought the prince as he turned towards the sound.  _It was more than that, it sounded like a word._

" _Run, run, run!"_  It said, followed by the rapid flapping and fluttering of wings, it was a raven. A bloody raven not far from them seeming to be focused on something hidden behind the woods. Ser Jaime took his place between the prince and whatever layed beyond. Suddenly the raven dived right into the bushes, the raven was seemingly pecking and clawing at whatever was hidden behind the bush, a man, by the shout.

Aegon was pressed backward as several men and women jumped from the bushes and even from the trees. They were not wearing any house colors, only some worn-out, matted furs. Their hair was tangled as well, it was left in long unruly braids and their movements did not seem human. Turning this way and that way, as if they were animals they angled their heads to such extremes in order to study and hear…

These weren't normal small folk or bandits.

_These are Wildlings!_

With that in mind Aegon grabbed his sword, the Prince was ready for any attack. His first battle with the savages beyond the Wall, and he was disappointed. These wildlings didn't have proper training, their footwork was weak and their weapons poor, he had his doubts that they were trained to fight. Except for the one that caught his eye, a woman with unruly brown hair, she had some semblance of a form, though hers was strange. She was able to handle herself well against Ser Richard, but even she wouldn't last for long.

Bran had quickly climbed into the nearest tree, at least he was far enough away from anyone that could harm him.  _Good, the lad would be safe up there so long as none of their attackers had any bows or arrows._

Theon attacked the ones furthest away while Robb fought them head on. Ser Jaime protected his back and Aegon had barely gotten a chance to bloody his sword before the battle was over. Soon there was only two left. A portly man and the woman Aegon had noticed during the fight. Ser Richard held his sword to her throat, while Robb had the man pinned to the nearest tree.

"Why did you attack us?" Robb demanded.

The man spits out a wad of blood and perhaps a tooth, "Weren't supposed to." He grumbled.

At his words, the woman turned towards him, "Shut your fucking mouth Wallan! You craven!"

"Aye I'm a craven, but I'm still alive! Can't say the same for them!" He shouted towards the woman tilting his head towards their fallen comrades.

With his attention back he turned to Robb and pleaded, "I know things, things happening Beyond the Wall that you and your people need to know! An uprising, there is a person gathering the wildlings, more than has ever been united before!"

"Don't listen to this idiot, he's a deserter! A former crow! He betrayed your own and now he's betraying me and mine! Kill us and be done with it!" Demanded the wildling woman.

"Silence woman!" Ser Richard hissed as he pressed his sword closer to her neck, causing a bit of blood to fall.

"Wait! She's important to her!" The man, Wallen, call out.

Finally, Aegon stepped forward and demand, "Important to whom?"

Wallen took in his appearance, seeming to focus on his hair and gaze, taking in his Valyrian features and house colors. The man seemed to nearly shit himself. "You-you're…"

"I am Prince Aegon of House Targaryen, Heir to the Seven Kingdoms, you attacked my party, which is punishable by death. That woman demands your deaths as much as I, so tell me Ser, why should you both be spared?"

The man took a deep breath before speaking, "She,-Osha there was placed in charge of us. But she did not give an order to attack! That was Stiv! She tried to make us stand down but you had already caught sight of us! She was chosen because Osha is her second...we-we were sent here, to watch the Starks, and see in what state the Seven Kingdoms…"

"You were sent to spy," Aegon confirmed, his grip tightening on his sword. "On whose orders?"

Licking his lips the craven man croaked out, "The Queen's...The Queen Beyond the Wall."

In an instant, Aegon heard absolutely nothing. He was completely enchanted by the notion.  _A Wildling Queen…_

"Tie them up, we're taking them with us back to Winterfell. My father will need to learn about this matter." Turning he saw Bran safely and easily climb down from the tree, he looked more like a squirrel than a boy. Aegon was glad to see that the lad unharmed they quickly made the journey back to Winterfell. He was doing his best to hide his relief and excitement, however, the feral grin on his face was difficult to contain.

_Finally, father, I may have found the darkness I'm supposed to fight!_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is! Chapter 2! FINALLY RIGHT?! I did warn you that it would not be a regular posting. My schedule along with my betas didn't overlap very well. And I had to restart my Aegon drawing so many times that I was just plain frustrated with it. I still am working on it and will have it posted soon. I had intended on waiting till it was done but...the chapter JUST GOT FINISHED! I wanted to post it right away. So I'll post the drawing soon, definitely before the next chapter. Which I already have a few pages of and don't intend on it being a long one like the first two. We will get to see how our Golden Queen is doing before we move beyond the Wall.
> 
> Yes, I know that there are a LOT of differences in the canon story VS this story. I intended on this to happen. In canon, Rickard was the one to burn, but I have plans for the Old Wolf so I couldn't have him die during the Rebellion. Sadly Brandon had to die of burning instead of strangulation. Though I have to say, It always struck me as odd that Aerys would wait nearly two months for Rickard to go south before he executed Brandon Stark because of how unstable Aerys was. The waiting seemed out of character to me, though he is a paranoid man driven by madness. 
> 
> I also brought Osha in earlier than in canon. As in canon, she doesn't arrive until AFTER Ned heads south. There is a reason for this as well.
> 
> Also, I made alterations to the crypts of Winterfell, because of things I have in mind later on in the story. And because, well, how the hell does they keep all those light lit??? This is 8000+ years of graves, I doubt the servants of house Stark all go down there to light all the torches. So I made my own explanation as to how they can see somewhat down in the crypts. These imaginary oils I may use in the future, or I may not. But know that it isn't like wildfire and I will not intend on it being used in such a way.


End file.
